


Just A Smile And I'm Weak

by Bennyhatter



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood, Blood and Gore, I SAY AGAIN: SPOILERS, M/M, Much blood, Not so one-sided attraction, Pining Daryl, Secrets, Shifter Rick, Spoilers!, They probably will though, They're in love but no one does anything yet, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, scarred character, there's a lot of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: Whenever Daryl sees Rick grin, it chills him to the core. He's never seen a human grin like that before - never seen that gleam in a person's eye, or the unnatural glint of light off teeth that suddenly look far too dangerous to be blunted and useless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since before season 7 happened. And then after that first episode, I figured "hey, what a perfect twist for this!" and so here we are. This was checked over and approved by the fabulous katytheinspiredworkaholic - any and all mistakes are my own doing.
> 
> I have no excuses. Also this might be a two-shot. So, yeah.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Mind the tags.

Whenever Daryl sees Rick grin, it chills him to the core. He's never seen a human grin like that before - never seen that gleam in a person's eye, or the unnatural glint of light off teeth that suddenly look far too dangerous to be blunted and useless.

 

Their lives are not for the weak or the faint of heart. This new world is the very epitome of Darwinism. Only the strong survive, although in this case the weak die off and rise again to prey on the stronger. It's a battle of will and skill, where only those with a darkness hidden in their hearts can rise up and conquer their new world.

 

Rick is a force unlike any Daryl has come across before. There's a violence in him that surpasses anything Will Dixon could have attempted; an easy danger in his stride that speaks of power and makes those around him bow their head in supplication as they slink at his heels. Even Daryl, who was raised on violence and carved from it, who bears the marks of his survival on his skin and in the twitches of his flesh when others get too close, is not immune.

 

Merle thrived in this new world, driven by his lust for a challenging fight. His desire for bloodshed was two shades too far into drug-driven stupidity; his nerves blunted in the heat of the moment and his eyes gleaming rabidly when his lips peeled back in an animalistic display of excitement at the first hint of the violence they were weaned on. Blood was nothing to Merle, his scars as numerous as Daryl's and their skin toughened by the lash of leather. He'd always tripped too far across the line into unstable, and that was where he had made his home.

 

Rick, on the other hand, balances his natures almost perfectly. He's strong in a way the youngest Dixon cannot understand, because the man with eyes like gathering storms has not bathed in the same violence Daryl swam through every day, and yet his ferocity runs deep into his very soul. Even Daryl barely scratches the surface of his own violence. His soul is broken by spiderweb-thin cracks that have scarred over and left him wary but strong; determined to make a life for himself that isn't influenced by his father's tyranny. He has never shied from a fight. He's never ducked his head for anyone. He’d never once had the desire to until Rick had tilted his head _just so_ and looked at Daryl with eyes that shone dangerously, something snapping and snarling just beneath the surface, and he'd _smiled_.

 

Daryl has bowed his head to Rick, has stuck to his side without Merle there to pry him away, and he knows there is something in his leader, some part of him he guards jealously that slips through the carefully-cultivated cracks only on occasion. Each time leaves the archer even more entangled, each grin chilling his blood and speeding his heart, because he knows - he _knows_ \- that whatever lurks in Rick is more than just a hint of darkness. It's more than any man can face alone or control. Shane had tried - had lured Rick into a field and tried to force his head to bow - and Rick had shown him the gleam of his blade several times over. They all learned quickly that no one made Rick bow. To try was asking for a brutal death.

 

For his part, Daryl has never faltered in his loyalty to Rick. He has never questioned a decision or fought against a plan. When they take the prison, he goes in with a quiver full of self-made arrows, a few rounds of ammunition, and blind faith in a man he is almost convinced can't be entirely human. He _can’t_ be - not with the way that light starts to shine in Rick's eyes when they come across Tomas and his group. Not with his animalistic rumble when he faces off against the ignorance of the prisoners and ducks from the deliberate swipe of Tomas' machete.

 

No human can grin like Rick, the slow widening of his lips baring teeth too sharp to be anything but deadly, and he almost always follows it up with a soft chuckle. The sound is too high, too close to a cackle, and it turns Daryl's blood to ice even as he waits with constantly bated breath for the command to lunge; ready to roll up onto the balls of his feet and always keeping his knife sharp and hungry. No human can carve through a man's skull like Rick, his machete blade grinding and scraping where it cracks through bone and sinks into vulnerable tissue. Tomas learns that at the prison. Gareth learns it after their escape from Terminus.

 

Joe learns the wild lethality sunken deep into Rick's bones the night Daryl watches his best friend and fearless leader rip the man's throat out with teeth that glint in the moonlight, his eyes black from rage and his fury spilling over like a dam breaking. The fury punches holes through its prison, rushing out until it chills the air and raises Daryl's hackles more out of fear than aggression. Rick is an unstoppable force, barely even human anymore as he carves through the Claimers and revels in their screams as they die gurgling on their own blood.

 

In the aftermath, he takes care of Daryl and his family, and he guides them along the tracks. Daryl follows him into Terminus, and afterward, to wherever the man's instincts decide to lead them. His body aches from his various beatings along the way, and his belly screams from hunger, but his devotion stays cemented firmly in Rick's favor every time the man glances his way to check on him. There's never a need to - pain is something every Dixon is well-acquainted with, even if Daryl is the last of his line left standing. The proof of his survival lives beneath his clothes, something that can never be removed no matter who might try.

 

Daryl's body is a roadmap of violence, his scars thick and ugly from a life that was just as cruel, but he has long been safe in the knowledge that whatever claim Rick leaves on him - just from the archer being an honorary part of his family - will wash away. There will be no physical reminder; all of it will be hidden beneath the surface of his soul, etched in deeply alongside Daryl's own violent nature and intertwining in a way that can never be undone. With each grin aimed his way, Daryl sinks a little deeper. With each touch, each look, each rumbling purr beckoning him forward, he falls a little harder into the bloody pool that makes up his love for Rick Grimes; swimming deeper and deeper until he's completely submerged but never once feels any fear of drowning. Rick will never hurt him, will never betray their bond, and maybe that makes Daryl too dependent.

 

Whenever he looks at Rick and watches the violence fade into something calmer, the balance restoring itself beneath the tacky red drying on his cheeks - all that’s left of whatever monster or man has fallen beneath his blade or gun that particular day - Daryl will smile and bump their shoulders together. Rick always smiles back, his teeth hidden and his eyes warm, and Daryl finds himself sinking a little further. He follows with a faith no one has ever earned from him before; he’s a loyal, feral mutt trotting at the heels of his unhinged master.

 

When they're not trying to outrun the dead with the rest of the family, they're looking for food. At his core, Rick is a hunter, but the game he chases is not like the deer Daryl tracks for hours. They learn any forest better than the others after days spent amongst the trees with no one but each other for company and companionship. Daryl hunts their food, bringing down deer that are big enough to feed their family or snagging enough smaller game to do the trick. Rick hunts what hunts them, always pinpointing the walkers with deadly accuracy and taking from them the life that was never meant to be theirs again once their hearts stopped beating. This is _their_ game, their way of finding the balance within themselves, and it soothes Daryl the way only routine can.

 

On the day the whistling men come from the trees to herd them along like cattle, Daryl coaxes Glenn, Michonne and Rosita to play along. He knows they're in trouble, and he knows Rick will find them. When Dwight shoots him, the _fucker_ , Daryl grits back his bark of pain, because now isn't the time for weakness. He has to protect the others until Rick finds out where they are.

 

And _oh_ , does Rick find them. His snarl warms Daryl's blood when they're hauled out of the truck they've been shoved into and they lay eyes on the rest of the group. It causes Negan's jeering Saviors to edge away from the man with eyes that are already glowing in the darkness. Daryl keeps himself carefully still, aware of the tension thickening the air until he feels like he's being forced through a swamp as he's shoved down onto his knees by uncaring men. Rick's strides into the clearing are almost a lope, his gait unsteady and the quietest of rumbles echoing from deep in his chest.

 

Negan has called the beast out to play, and it has answered his summons. Daryl doesn't know how tonight is going to go, but he already knows that something, somewhere, is going to give. He can only hope it's Rick that strikes first.

 

\--

 

"I'm a convincing guy, and I get what I want. And what I _want_ , Rick, is half your shit."

 

Daryl pants through the pain of his wound, teeth gritted and eyes flashing dangerously as Negan's cocky swagger takes him around the half-circle his men have put them in. They're on their knees, silent and unafraid, and Daryl has never been more fucking proud of his family. Even Maggie, nearly crippled by her pain, is staring Negan down with hate in her eyes. They're all so fierce, even as Negan waves Lucille in their faces and drones on about the new world order. Daryl can see Rick watching his enemy, his black eyes cold and calculating. He sees the way his friend's toes are digging into the soil; would bet his left kidney that Rick's muscles are coiling in preparation beneath the heavy layers of his clothes. There's something happening with his friend, something that Negan notices too, because he cuts himself off and grins as he cocks his head to the side.

 

"You got somethin' you wanna say to me, Ricky boy? You don't look that happy right now. Somethin' on your mind?"

 

Rick remains silent. Daryl watches the muscles in his jaw start to twitch, and he knows that shit is about to go down. He can see it, and the rest of their family sees it too. They _know_ Rick. These Saviors and their leader _don't._ They have no idea the lengths Rick Grimes will go to protect his family.

 

Negan sighs, shaking his head. He's still treating all of this as a game; some cruel, twisted play of his own morbid design as he stands in front of them and spreads his arms wide enough to encompass the world.

 

"I can see you're not quite convinced. Don't you worry yourselves, though. Now, I'm usually an easy guy to get along with, Rick, but... _you_ fucked up. You killed _my_ people. So I figure, hey - fair is fair."

 

Negan strikes with the speed of a cobra. The bat swings toward Abraham, who rises without fear and watches the light glint off the hooks of barbed wire. Daryl jerks forward, panic and adrenaline helping him forget about the agony of his gunshot wound as he tries to get to Abraham first. He knows he's too slow, that be won't make it in time, but he has to _try_.

 

He can't fail anyone else.

 

Rick explodes with a roar, one that's too far from human and chilling enough to freeze the bat's descent. He lunges, tackling Negan, and they hit the ground in a writhing ball of leather and fur.

 

In front of the Saviors and their family, Rick's clothes stretch and rip. His spine arches, and his face morphs. Coarse, spotted fur ripples across his tearing skin. It's like a beast is literally clawing it's way out of Rick Grimes' body, scraps of bloodless flesh and shredded fabric falling away to reveal the monster that has always been inside of him.

 

Someone panics and shoots, and Rick's response is a high-pitched cackle that chills Daryl to the bone. He watches his leader, his friend - the only person he's ever loved enough to follow into certain death - curl black lips back from thick, vicious fangs. He watches the blunt muzzle wrinkle, soulless eyes narrowed and rounded, furry ears pinned back. Saliva drips from his jaws, and his snarl is the stuff of nightmares. The Saviors are shouting, waiting for Negan to give them orders, while their leader is pinned beneath paws the size of truck tires. Daryl remembers seeing documentaries in school, back when he still cared enough to go.

 

He remembers watching a video on the mating habits of various species of African beasts and learning how they differed from humans. He remembers the snarling cackle of the hyenas, and the viciousness with which they'd mated and raised their pups.

 

He's _never_ seen a hyena bigger than a polar bear. He's never seen a man shed his human body to become a beast. As he watches the African hyena - as he watches _Rick_ \- he feels no fear that they're going to die tonight. He's watched this violence manifest in Rick before - he's just never seen it in its full, unhindered beauty.

 

It makes sense, that Rick's wild nature came from something different. It makes sense that Rick isn't human, because Daryl hasn't thought of him as even _remotely_ human for a long time now. In the past, Rick freed this darkness when the situation called for it, but he kept himself carefully muzzled so too much wouldn't slip through.

 

Negan asked for the beast. Daryl doubts he was expecting this, but he feels no remorse or sympathy as Rick opens his mouth wider and snarls again. He sees the first flickers of fear on Negan's face and he feels a vicious sense of satisfaction warm his cold, hurting body.

 

Rick’s massive head turns, the beast’s glittering eyes looking straight at him. His thick sides are heaving, his violence tempered until Daryl nods imperceptibly. Those black eyes see it, and Rick's wide tongue drags across his teeth before Daryl finally sees the grin he fell in love with so long ago. Negan chokes, struggling to breathe properly with so much weight settled across his shoulders, and Rick cackles shrilly before he goes in for the kill.

 

Men are fallible, and at the end of the day, they are ultimately weak. Their bodies grow old, and their skin can never knit back together seamlessly once it's been split - Daryl's body is testament of that. Negan's might even be too.

 

When it all comes down to it, Negan is just a man, and Rick... Rick is _not_.

 

Teeth designed to crush and tear into prey rip through Negan's throat like it’s paper, blood spraying in an arc that splatters against Daryl's face and sends the Saviors running with screams that ring with pure, unhindered terror. Dwight is frozen in shock, and he goes down hard under Daryl's fist; dies by the bolt the archer plants through his eye as soon as he yanks his crossbow free of the man's vile hands. He turns and watches Rick rip Negan apart, gore slick on the grass and muddying the dirt as the hyena cackles and snarls and shatters bone with a bite force unmatched by any other creature in the animal kingdom.

 

"Rick," he rasps, and furry ears dripping red swivel toward him. Rick looks up, a chunk of muscle and flesh hanging from the side of his jaw. His wet nose twitches as he snuffles, and Daryl watches the black recede from those eyes until they're amber, sharp and glowing as the hyena swings his way. "Ya did good, Rick," Daryl continues. He watches the creature's hunched shoulders roll as Rick prowls closer, and he relaxes with a slow breath. He tilts his head and averts his eyes, and Rick rumbles in a way that shivers through Daryl's blood and makes his throat dry from reasons that have nothing to do with fear.

 

The hyena's head drops enough for the creature to nose at his crotch, breathing in deeply, and Daryl's mind screams _Teeth!_ even as his hand slowly rises to settle in the blood-saturated fur against Rick's throat. Rick chuffs at him, his warm, wet tongue cleaning the blood from Daryl's face, and the archer submits to the bath without a word of protest. When Rick is satisfied, he gently butts his forehead against Daryl's, and he looks into eyes that have become so familiar even though the shade and the species are both wrong.

 

"C'mon," he whispers as he scratches through Rick’s short, spotted fur. "Let's get Maggie to Hilltop."

 

Daryl has always known there was something different about Rick. The way their family gathers around them, unafraid when they reach out to try and clean some of the gore from Rick's coat, tells Daryl that he's not the only one. They begin their journey to Hilltop together, with Maggie safely on the stretcher again while an enormous spotted beast drawn directly from nightmares and legends roams through the woods around them and slaughters anything that threatens his pack. Daryl watches Rick, longing to hunt with his friend. Rick's quiet, answering rumble makes his abdomen clench. He sees satisfied eyes glittering through a break in the trees, and then Rick is gone again, and Daryl gets the impression that there's a whole new game he and Rick will soon play.

 

He's looking forward to it.


End file.
